Fragmented
by Miz Thang
Summary: Owned. Dominated. Weak. Tired. Destructive. Dying. Avoiding. Gone. Lost. Fragmented. Draco is all this and more. For my au100 claim of Harry PotterDraco Malfoy.


**Title: **Fragmented  
**Author:** Miz Thang  
**Characters/Pairing: **Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, HP/DM, PP/DM  
**Rating:** FRM  
**Word Count:** 1329  
**Warnings:** Slash, obviously. Het (for some people). Angst. Character Death. No HBP.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.  
**Summary: **Owned. Dominated. Weak. Tired. Destructive. Dying. Avoiding. Gone. Lost. Fragmented. Draco is all this and more. For my au100 claim of Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy.  
**Author Notes:** So, um, I have absolutely no clue where this idea came from, but some part of me felt like I had to write it. And so, I found that is could fit in to my au100 claim, and voila. It's an unhealthy relationship, full of hate with maybe love buried too deeply to be noticed until the very end, that no one knows what to do or how to deal with or how to stop it. Destructive enough to ruin more likes that the ones that die. Tell me if I was being insane, **_please_**. I'm actually nervous about this story. Heh.

_Owned_.

Harry comes by the Manor whenever he feels like it, without a care for the time of day. Draco doesn't like it, but he says nothing. Pansy, who decided to move in when she found out, says that Harry owns him. Draco doesn't like the thought, and doesn't want to believe it, but what can he do when all the evidence points distincively to it? He doesn't want to be owned. Not by anyone but himself.

_Dominated_.

Draco doesn't like it, always being the one controlled. He doesn't like it when they have sex (not after the fact, when he gets the chance to think about it), because they're not equal. He doesn't feel equal. Draco's addicted to it though. To the sex. He's addicted to Harry, to be more accurate.

Pansy tells him that it's not only when they're fucking (because she says it would never be making love; she and Draco would be more loving than that – and shouldn't he have been able to read what had been in between those words?). She says that she and everyone else can see it everytime he's in the same room with Harry. She claims that Draco practically cowers behind Harry instead of attempting to outshine him like he used to.

_Weak_.

Draco is weak. He's weak because he feels as if he can't say a damn thing about how he really feels in all of this. Well, he _can_ say it. He has no problem ranting and raving to Pansy for hours on end. But he can't seem to get up the nerve to actually tell Harry. So, Harry continues to come by at all hours of the night, and he continues to demand sex and he continues to fuck Draco (because it is never the other way around) and Draco lets him. Because Draco's weak (even though he doesn't want to be).

_Tired_.

And it's all a cycle that continues repeatedly. And Draco's tired. He doesn't want this thing he has with Harry. He doesn't want any of it. And yet, it continues. He's owned and dominated and weak, and it all makes him tired. So, one night, he kisses Pansy. And then, because it's not Harry, and he won't be owned, and he won't be dominated, and he won't be weak, he does more than kiss Pansy. He goes as far as having sex with her. And you know – it doesn't bother him. He realizes, to some great relief, that he's not restricted to Harry (because they have no arrangement and because he has Pansy now too). But it all makes him tired, nonetheless.

_Destructive_.

His world is falling apart by the second. Pansy Parkinson, his best friend who he's had sex with multiple times without telling Harry, is pregnant. Which really takes the fucking cake when you think about it. They, Draco and Pansy, aren't even married – and now Draco has to tell Harry that his platonic friend isn't half as platonic as he'd thought and that Draco and her are going to have a bastard for a child. Draco has to come to a decision. He gets Pansy an engagement ring. And Harry's mad at him. He's destructive, but he doesn't really care. Harry's angry at him, he's marrying Pansy, he's going to have a child, and he really wishes he won't wake up one morning soon.

_Dying_.

Panys notices, bless her. He's dying. Not physically, not literally. It's everything that makes him _him_ dying. Harry still isn't speaking to him and Pansy's planning the wedding (and she knows it's all a sham, but she claims it'll have more of a chance as the real thing than him and Harry; Draco almost agrees many times). They get married one sunny afternoon in June-only a while after his birthday.

And, afterwards, it's his turn to be angry because Harry has the audacity to show up and _kiss him_ before everyone present. Draco nearly has a panic attack (they're becoming more frequent over the years) and Pansy tells him that he's losing himself. That he's dying. And that Harry's the one killing him. That Harry will kill him one day. Draco doesn't want to die. So he believes her, because she's real. She's his wife.

_Avoiding_.

The Malfoy heir is born some while later. A boy, thankfully. A full head of he palest blond hair, and striking gray eyes…carrying on the tradition as he should. Pansy names him, because Draco lets her. He's Severien (she must think he didn't catch the ode to their ex-Head of House; he doesn't mind though – he can't find it in himself the muster enough care to mind) Malfoy.

He manages to keep himself going for two years after that, avoiding Harry because of what he did and dying inside because he's avoiding Harry. At Severien's sixth birthday party, things reach their peak (because time flies when you're miserable-but that's only when Pansy and Severien give him time to think-they try not to often) when Harry shows up _with_ his friends. Draco feels like he's going to die right there, because Harry's not supposed to be there and it'll all be Harry's fault, because Pansy said-

_Gone_.

Draco has another panic attack. His last. Not that Pansy's surprised. He's been having them more and more over the past half a decade. Only twenty-five years old, and to think-

And Harry's numb while she attempts to get her husband to breathe. And he isn't. Funny when you look at the disaster from the outside. She's trying to get Draco to wake up and breathe; Weasley's trying to snap Harry out of his trance; and Granger's trying to calm Severien down as he cries for his father.

She's screaming at him and shaking him (and doing everything she can to get him to) breathe, but he's notrespondingandSeverien'scryingandHarry'sfinallysnapping out of it (and realizing) and Pansy hopes to high hell that he knows-knows that _he_ killed Draco.

Pansy knows that Draco's gone, dead (not breathing because of Harry; it's Harry's fault). She doesn't want him to be. Gone. She's fallen in love with her friend, her husband. She doesn't want him to be gone. Why does he have to be gone?

_Lost_.

Pansy tells Harry to not be at the funeral. To not come near her, or Severien. That Draco died because of his stupidity and that he should rot in hell. And she begins to cry and threatens him with an _Avada Kedavra_ (that would work) if he came near her or her son. And he tries, Harry does. He tries really hard. Hermione even offers to lock him in his apartment that day. But it doesn't work.

He goes. And rage fills Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy. And no one is quick enough to stop her (but maybe that's why Harry goes, because he knows no one can stop her). And Harry doesn't move. Why? Because she might be right. Because it's his fault. Because he loved Draco and can't bare the thought of living without him. And because of all this, he thinks of nothing but Draco as green flashes in his vision. He's lost without Draco; maybe now he can be found.

_Fragmented_.

Pansy Malfoy is a sight to behold. Her husband just buried, having killed his ex-lover, and her son at her side, cowering into her robes and crying pitifully. She's breathing heavily, eyes wide and wild, her hair (now) long and hanging about her face haphazardly (an utter mess for such and aristocratic woman). She's killed Harry Potter. It starts as a slight chuckle.

She, Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy, killed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Defeat Voldemort.

Full out laughter becomes hysterical until she's on her knees, sobbing harshly and holding onto Severien for all she has (because he is), even when Aurors arrive to try and separate them (Severien holds onto her just as tightly). She's fragmented, Pansy. She's oh-so-very fragmented and she can't piece herself back together.

Merlin, help her.

_End._


End file.
